


I Try to Wash My Hands For You Every Night

by OliviaZircon



Category: Friends at the Table (Podcast)
Genre: Fraught Tension, Friendship, Gen, Secret Samol 2017
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-01-09
Updated: 2018-01-09
Packaged: 2019-03-02 12:47:58
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 471
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13318434
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/OliviaZircon/pseuds/OliviaZircon
Summary: Secret Samol gift for @celloandbehold on Twitter!On the second night at Samol's house, Hella comes knocking.





	I Try to Wash My Hands For You Every Night

A knock at the door, and then Hella’s voice. “Can I come in?”

Hadrian pulls on his undershirt and sets aside the new obsidian blade his lord had given him. He had been examining the place where the obsidian mixed with the shattered gold at the hilt, his finger drags across the blade there and as he stands the callus on his fingertip catches making a small cut.

“I’m getting the door for you,” he says in warning, swinging it open. Hella deftly leans back from the doorframe to avoid being hit, then steps into the room.

“How are you doing?” she asks cautiously, and then looks down at the hand holding the door open, seeing the drops of scarlet blood trailing down Hadrian’s finger from the cut. She reaches into her pocket and pulls out a couple cloth bandages, taking Hadrian by the hand and leading him over to his bed.

“We’ve been here for two days and I have this awful feeling about where his story is going,” Hella says as she holds Hadrian’s hand between both of hers. They sit on the bed and with the palm of her hand she brushes the blood away from his fingertip. They both look down at his hand. As the blood comes off, there is no cut, instead there is a furrow in his dark skin that has blackened edges on either side. 

Hella looks up slowly and finds Hadrian’s gaze waiting for her, he looks like he wants to say something, but he closes his mouth. Hella isn’t that shy. “You should get rid of that thing. Throw it away and don’t look back. I’ve seen that sword before and it didn’t look like that Hadrian. What happened?”

Hadrian looks at the floor and murmurs something. Hella squeezes his hand and waits for him to look at her.

“What was that?”

“He gave it to me. He made it for me. I need this blade for my mission.” Hadrian pulls his hand away, turns, and sheathes the sword. Walking to the door to hang the sword on it. He turns around and Hella is looking up at him from the bed with a storm in her eyes.

Hadrian expects it but when it comes out he still can’t help but shudder and look down. He hasn’t looked away from anyone this much in a long time. Usually it is his gaze that holds strong.

“What is he making you do?”

Hadrian waits a moment then turns to the door. He opens it and looks at Hella. “I can’t tell you, please don’t ask me again.” He meets her eyes now, begging in his mind for her not to make this any harder. Hoping she will see in the look he gives her that this is his duty, not his choice.


End file.
